


A Perfect Heat

by ShadowMeld



Series: The Witcher ABO [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, M/M, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nesting, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-19 05:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22505692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowMeld/pseuds/ShadowMeld
Summary: After all his hard work Jaskier is finally going to get Geralt to share his heat with him and he’s determined to make it perfect.  The witcher might not have a romantic bone in his body, but fortunately Jaskier had a plan to take care of everything.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Witcher ABO [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607134
Comments: 22
Kudos: 1429
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	A Perfect Heat

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this before I second guess myself anymore. This fandom has been so wonderful, and your kind comments have meant a lot, know I appreciate all of them. This is the obligatory ABO heat fic. It has to happen, I don't make the rules.

The path hadn’t been easy, but at last Jaskier had won over his handsome but sometimes oblivious alpha, and now he would soon reap the full rewards of all his hard work. Geralt was not getting away with leaving him locked up this season. They were officially together, and the witcher would at last be joining him for a week straight of athletic, amazing sex.

Perhaps it was because he had finally found the ideal mate, but Jaskier was determined to have this heat be perfect. After all, he would one day compose a ballad on the bonding of the dashing witcher and his handsome poet lover. Their glorious union was sure to be worthy of song. He doubted Geralt would see it that way, but the witcher was a simple man, he didn’t see the true grandeur of their adventures. It was up to bards like himself to keep such romance alive.

The Witcher was many things; strong, sexy, a terrible grump, but romantic was not one of them. The monster hunter’s idea of romance was a hot bath and a blow job after. Which admittedly was fantastic, but still not the same. 

This was why Jaskier had taken it upon himself to secure the ideal location for their first shared heat. Of course by secure he meant that he had posted a flyer on the notice board of a nearby town that would set them on a monster hunt that may or may not lead back to the lovely elven ruins they had cleared out last summer. There had been the most wonderful omega bathhouse abandoned beneath them that was fed by a natural hot spring. It was just perfect.

How was he supposed to know that in a years’ time the place would be infested again?

Now the bathhouse that was supposed to make the perfect location for their shared heat was filled with specter dust and draugr corpses, ruined like all of his lovely plans! And Geralt for his part seemed only concerned with who he was supposed to collect the entirely fabricated bounty from. He was focusing on all the wrong things!

They were supposed to go to the entirely empty bathhouse, Jaskier would work his wiles to lure the stern monster hunter in for a dip and then things would transition naturally into a week of glorious sex. But no, now Geralt was asking all these questions and making it all seem foolish and deceitful. 

And so yes, Jaskier might have stomped off back to camp in a snit when Geralt was otherwise occupied querying the townsfolk about the completed bounty. It wouldn’t do much good, but lamenting by the fireside about what he would do now for his heat was all he had. How could he know that a band of brigands would see a lone, emotionally compromised bard as a lovely target?

Which brought them to now, with Jaskier bound to post in the middle of a wretched bandit camp while a jeering beast yanked his soft silks and comfort furs out of his bag, leering pointedly. Of course it was something for men like this to mock, no doubt they thought anything finer than burlap a terrible excess.

“You’re making a dreadful mistake,” Jaskier cautioned from where he slumped, uncomfortably bound to a post by a brigand’s rope. It was awfully uncomfortable, his hands hoisted high above him and ankles awkwardly bound as well. 

Under different circumstances, with a better position and better company he could see how it could be fun. But right now, awkwardly sprawled and surrounded by rotten toothed thugs he could say it was not to his liking.

“Oh, are we? And why is that, fancy man? Your daddy going to come find us? Give us a stern talking to?” This from the apparent leader of the ragged band, one could tell by the elevated sense of entitlement. And the hat. Proper haberdashery was an obvious sign of distinction.

“Well, I wouldn’t call him that, but I'll just tell you that my alpha won’t be pleased about all this. We haven’t even made it to these sort of games, and I don’t doubt he'll be somewhat cross that I'm starting without him.”

The men just looked puzzled, pausing only briefly before dumping more of his smuggled heat supplies onto the dirty ground. He felt something soft and omega in him whine to see his pretty things ground into the dirt, the men looking increasingly irritable to not find coin amongst it.

As he watched them sniff and grimace at the small handkerchief he had horded, the scrap of cloth soaked in the witcher’s scent he found himself utterly at the end of his patience. “I'm just saying, you will be terribly sorry when the famed Geralt of Rivia comes to my rescue!”

This at least stirred a reaction, the brutes starting to murmur amongst themselves. “The White Wolf… boss, you didn’t say nuthin' about no Butcher…”

“Oh shut it, the little dandy doesn’t know him.”

“I do! I surely do! In fact intimately, and in a great many positions!”

This seemed to give the toughs further pause, all of them seemed to look over the bard more carefully, like they could tell just by looking if the men were acquainted. “And why’d the famous monster hunter be wanting some warbling pretty boy?”

“Uh, wow, words hurt. And he’s my mate actually. Well… sort of. You know what, never mind, I'm his mate.”

A noisy inhalation of breath marked the obvious leader trying to scent the air, a dark frown on his face. “Don’t smell claimed to me. Maybe a little messin' about, but nothin’ lasting.”

Shit. “I-I’ve got a patch! It keeps my scent to a minimum. And it is very expensive so please don’t touch!”

The bandits were already poking at the fragrant bit of cloth, but they didn’t pull it off yet. “Well then, omega, what were you doing out there without your alpha?”

“Funny story that, Geralt —my particularly large, scary alpha— happened to be inquiring with the local townsfolk about a bounty. We may have had a small disagreement in regards to the importance of said recompense, and then I may have calmly walked away in order to clear my head. That does not of course mean that we’re broken up, we are still very much together. Often, in fact. We were actually just headed on a romantic getaway when you scoundrels so rudely interrupted my plans.”

The roughians for their part seemed utterly overwhelmed, frowning at him, the patch, and likely whatever cruel fate had brought them to this moment.

Jaskier was just starting to get anxious as the men started sniffing his things more closely when a gust of wind pounded through the camp, sending the toughs sailing. He never thought he would be so glad to be tied to a post, since that was all that kept him seated, though his hair was a terrible mess. 

What followed was the scent of an impending storm, a scent the bard would know anywhere. “Geralt! Thank the gods you’re here.”

The witcher didn’t spare him more than a glance, his eyes all for the bandits now scattered about the camp, his sword at the ready as they started to slowly get to their feet. The leader, hatless now though he may be, gaped openly at the monster hunter and then at the bard. No doubt he was seeing the error of his ways now that he knew Jaskier had clearly been telling the truth.

“Now, I am prepared to be magnanimous, as long as you beasts are properly contrite. I think an apology is in order. Don’t you, Geralt?”

One sharp gold eye swept over to the omega, and Jaskier couldn’t help the shiver of awareness. “I think more than one, Jaskier. How did you even get yourself into this mess? I left you alone for less than an hour.”

The hint of disapproval made something wicked tingle in him, and despite the utter indignity of his position, the troubadour couldn’t help admiring the image his fierce alpha made. “I’ll have you know what I was minding my own business. It was these scoundrels that absconded with me! I’m the victim here, Geralt.”

“Indeed.” Geralt still did not seem terribly amused, but the bandits didn’t dare make a move as the witcher cut through his bindings. His wrists and ankles tingled terribly as the bard stumbled back to his feet, leaning heavily against the witcher’s back.

Around his alpha’s shoulder he watched the man make another sign, watching each of the brigand’s eyes go glassy before them. “None of you saw anything here, you’re going to return to families and live a life of virtue.”

“I didn’t see nothin’. I’m going home.” 

There was something oddly disturbing about watching men react under the influence of Axii. The brigands just dropped their weapons, and walked away bespelled. It wasn’t the most impressive of the witcher’s signs, but it was remarkably effective.

Still rubbing his sore wrists, the Jaskier looked to the scattered array of his belongings and was reminded anew of his ruined plans. As Geralt kept watch to make sure the bandits were on their way, the bard started to gather the furs and filthy sheets, feeling an ache open up in his chest. He knew it wasn’t that big of a deal, but on the cusp of heat seeing his supplies besmirched it seemed too much.

“Alright. They’re off. Come on, Jaskier, let’s go back to camp.”

He knew his patches were in place, but maybe his disappointment was evident none the less because he could feel the witcher’s gaze go soft on him. It somehow made the burden a little lighter, and though his nesting supplies were a mess he still found it in himself to calm down and follow his alpha back to Roach, tied up not far away. Even the mare seemed to sense his delicate condition, because she didn’t even complain when Jaskier joined Geralt on her back for the journey back to camp.

The bandit’s little camp wasn’t far away, but just enough to make it slow going on foot. Seated behind the witcher Jaskier couldn’t help but press a little closer, wrapping his arms around the alpha’s waist. He reveled in the closeness, letting his inner omega assure itself that he did have a mate for the heat, even if his plans were in shambles at the moment.

It wasn’t until they made it back to camp that Jaskier finally let go, leaving the witcher to settling things while he settled back by the fire to sort through what was left of his nesting supplies. At least his lute was unharmed, since the bandits had left it behind when they’d taken him.

He was beginning to think that maybe he should have taken the offer of a portal from one of the sorceresses. He knew it was petty, but he didn’t want to spend their first heat together in one of the sorceress’ little love nests, in a room practically stinking of other people. Geralt didn’t get it because he was a big dumb alpha. Anywhere they wouldn’t be interrupted seemed nice enough to him, but Jaskier wanted it to be _special_ , dammit.

His whole elegant, wonderful, romantic plan was in shambles! He was wet, and not in the good way, dirty; also not in the good way, and definitely on the verge of an intense heat. 

He tried not to let things get to him, but he couldn’t help the pressure building behind his eyes this time. He didn’t want to spend his heat locked up like the last several times, or even in this shabby, flee-ridden camp. He wanted someplace nice! With fine carpets and luxurious silks the two of them could thoroughly scent so he could spend the whole thing in comfort, gloriously fucked and hopefully properly marked by his mate of choice. 

Seated on the burnt out log with his now ruined satchel clutched to him, Jaskier was settled in for a proper sulk and maybe a cry followed by a round of sad songs when he heard the witcher sit down beside him. He looked as stern and annoyingly handsome as ever, even still smeared with ash and wraith oil. He wanted to be upset with him, but even he could admit that it wasn’t Geralt’s fault his plans didn’t work out.

He could only sit still and silent for so long, and soon enough the bard was cozying up to the witcher’s side, sighing as he breathed in the familiar alpha scent. Despite his disappointment and distress it actually did a fair bit to soothe the nagging ache that came with the first stages of preheat.

He was all but putty in the man's hands when a large, scarred hand came up to run through the anxious bard’s brunette locks. “I don’t suppose you know anything about the mysterious bounty that was posted for a golem the Elven ruins?”

“No…?” He knew it didn’t sound terribly convincing, but at the moment Jaskier was so upset about all of it, he couldn’t really be bothered to care about the rest.

“Mmhm. So you wouldn’t have posted up a fake contract to draw us to an Elven bathhouse?” His hand never stopped the careful stroking, but it was impossible not to hear the censure in his tone.

“Fine, alright! You found me out! I'm sorry I wanted us to have a lovely time in what seemed to be a very romantic locale, but as you can see, it’s all gone to shit, so you can just have a laugh at one of Jaskier the Fool's hilarious blunders.” Though Jaskier knew he had brought this on himself, but it didn’t make it any easier to bare.

“You're not a fool, Jaskier. Just foolish at times.” It wasn’t much of a compliment, but at least the Geralt didn’t seem terribly angry with him. He didn’t know if he could take it if the witcher changed his mind about sharing a heat with him. 

“Well, I suppose it’s fortunate I called in a favor. Several years ago I took care of a chimera menacing a baron's summer villa not far from here. He said that he was willing to lend me the use of the place for a week or two. Does that sound sufficient for your heat?”

Jaskier raised up from his slump, not certain be could believe what he was hearing. Geralt had actually made arrangements for them? It seemed impossible, too good to be true. “You didn’t…”

“Jaskier, do you really think I didn’t notice you were coming into season? I’ve had to lock you up for five of them, and from what I’ve seen your cycle is as regular as clockwork.”

“S-so you really did have something romantic planned?” He couldn’t believe it, he wanted to kiss him!

“It’s no wraith infested Elven ruins, but I thought it might do.”

“Oh Geralt…”

“Don’t thank me just yet. We’ll be talking about your penchant for manipulating your way into things later. I get enough of that from sorceresses and pinch penny farmhands, I don’t need it from my bondmate as well. Though now is very much not the time. By my count your heat is scarcely three days out, and we’re two from the baron’s villa.”

He knew Geralt was displeased with him, but even the thought of punishment only made him tingle pleasantly when it was so clear his alpha actually cared, that he had gone out of his way for him. Jaskier wanted to sing, to cry his delight to the heavens, but the settled for a crooning purr as he turned into that broad chest, suddenly much less bothered by the mud and ash. 

“Then there’s no time to waste, Alpha.”

***

The baron's villa was perched on the coastline, and it was as pretty as any artist's careful rendering. 

Jaskier had been restless the entire last leg of the journey, shifting restlessly as the too familiar sensitivity made him feel like his fine clothing was suddenly as coarse as wool, tight and itchy against his skin. He wanted to strip down already, to lie nude on rabbit fur sheets and sing to the stars while he was spectacularly fucked. 

At the very least his ache for company was sated. For the last bit he'd abandoned riding on his own and Geralt had indulged him to share Roach.

Jaskier distracted himself thoroughly scenting the alpha the whole way, heedless of the witcher’s exasperated grumbles. He hadn’t been able to stand wearing the patches with his heat so close but fortunately the potent scent of possessive alpha made even the boldest brigand a fool to try his hand.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t terribly glad to arrive, ascending the pale stone stairs with eagerness. The witcher followed behind at a more sedate pace, tying up Roach before he came to open the door with the key tied around his throat.

Inside the place was nothing short of regal and the scent of others was faint enough that with a little work it could definitely be comfortable. He rubbed his scent on some of the scattered furnishings, pleased when it covered over the faint echoes of previous occupants. The bard had been so consumed with his meticulous claiming that it took him a while to notice the small mound of what looked to be luggage sitting in the foyer. “What’s all this, Geralt?”

“Sent ahead. A few furs and a gift or two I'm told. To bless our ‘union.’” Exasperation was audible in his tone, though Jaskier was already tearing into the pile, doublet discarded as the stifling excess that it was. He wasn’t sure who would be giving them gifts, but when he opened the first massive trunk to find a blanket big enough to grace the bed of a king he could not keep himself from raising it immediately to coat firmly in his scent.

“Well, I take that to mean it meets with your approval then,” came the clearly amused tone of the witcher as he flipped the lid on one of the smaller boxes, looking pleased with what he saw.

“You know it does. I'm in a delicate condition I'll have you know, now just what have you got there? It smells… hmmm… oh no, no no no no no, not her. Not again. Whatever it is, it’s nothing but trouble, Geralt.”

“Oh, and what if it’s the good kind of trouble?” The rare smile gracing the witcher’s usually stern face was sly, and though it was imminently arousing, it also made the bard particularly suspicious.

The box was tipped in his direction and Jaskier’s eyes widened at the sight of elegantly crafted restraints and what was unmistakably a knotted… sculpture.

“You know Geralt, I'm beginning to think that you ageless folk get terribly perverted in your old age. Should I feel taken advantage of? Perhaps you only desire me for the innocent blossom of my youth.”

“I'm fairly certain that bloom is off the rose, Jaskier.”

The bard shot him a look, but chose not to take offense despite the witcher’s obvious cheek. “I'm just saying, what kind of deviant brings restraints and…and _novelties_ to an omega’s heat?!”

“Let’s not pretend I haven’t found similar ‘novelties’ amongst your things, Jaskier.”

Well honestly, a man had needs! The bard shot Geralt a disgruntled frown. It was hard to remain angry with his hands buried in mounds of fine silk and fur, but he gave it his best. 

Now that he was here in a place appropriate for his nest his mind seemed fixated on the thought of getting settled. He needed to get his nest built, quickly before the heat finally hit. The only thing that still made him anxious was the witcher, as he suddenly worried that the man might try to leave while he was making his nest.

“Geralt… you’re staying, right? You’re not planning to lock me in here and guard the door like an angry gargoyle? So help me Geralt if you think about leaving me to my own devices again!”

“Yes, I’m going to stay.”

“And you'll knot me, and mark me?”

“Believe it or not , Jaskier, I’ve seen more than one omega through their heat.”

The swell of sudden jealousy gave even Jaskier a start. “I'll pretend I didn’t hear that. I suppose what matters is that you’re spending it with me, and I do have things to attend to. Just… I don’t know, do your witchering or some such in the meantime while I powder my nose.”

***

Apparently powdering his nose was a pseudonym for nesting; loudly and dramatically.

As soon as the bard had been let loose upon the villa the man started into a flurry of motion; gathering tapestries and pillows, and taking them into the largest bed chamber like he somehow knew instinctively where best to make his nest. It left Geralt somewhat taken aback, but still he found himself fascinated to watch it. Jaskier was generally such a civilized sort that there was something distinctly arresting about seeing him act so feral.

He didn’t know if it was because the man was a bard, but he also seemed markedly more vocal than omegas he had seen nesting before. The pretty brunette trilled, purred and even raised his voice in song as he scented the various oddments that struck his fancy, piling them up in an arrangement that only he seemed to see a reason to. Of course Geralt had never been one for home decorating, or homes at all, though it definitely seemed… decadent.

As entertaining as it was to watch his flighty bard swanning about gathering things up like a dragon on a hoard, he eventually had to start the other preparations for Jaskier’s heat.

He took stock of other supplies that had been sent ahead; food, wine, the odd potion for vigor and healing. If the bard’s scent on the air was any indication then it was set to be a longer one than usual. Not to mention that his preoccupation with the setting and comforts was atypical of the man. Jaskier had always liked his comforts, but despite his complaints he’d been well enough set up in a decent whorehouse or omega inn. That definitely would not have cut it this time.

With the strength of the heat there were more considerations to make, especially considering that they would be exchanging marks. Such a thing he would never have imagined as much as a year ago. An infertile alpha mutant, more monster than man was no great catch for any omega, not for an orientation accustomed to softness and pampering.

And then came the bard, crashing into his life like a summer storm.

He wasn’t sure what convinced him to let the bard tag along that night. Maybe it was the way he'd approached him; brazen as a whore. Likely more so, since even the whores still stunk of fear or desperation. But Jaskier had stuck by him, unshaken by the witcher’s otherness or rough edges. He’d been fascinated with him, and despite Geralt’s reservations he had managed to seduce the ageless mutant into pursuing him.

He still wasn’t certain the outcome of trying to mark a human omega. For no small exchange in favors he’d consulted with every hedge witch and alchemist worth their salt, but there was no record of such a thing in script or songs. It certainly wasn’t a subject broached in his time at Kaer Morhen; though it was rather assumed that an alpha that couldn’t breed wouldn’t be spending time bonding. 

The Path left no room for families or attachments. Strange that it seemed to keep leading him to them all the same.

So the closest he could come in preparation were a slew of salves and potions, just in case. In his experience mutations were generally intentional, and certainly not contagious, but that didn’t mean he wanted to tempt fate.

With the supplies in order he went out to tend to Roach. He’d paid a beta farmhand to come by the villa and tend to his mare in the stables while they were otherwise occupied. She at least seemed understanding, but then he got the impression that even his usually stubborn horse had developed a bit of a soft spot for the bard.

When finally he sought Jaskier out again he found the man clearly warm and flushed with drink, buried in a sumptuous nest that entirely encompassed the not inconsiderably sized bed in the master bedroom. “Geralt! You’re here! I've missed you, come on you big grump, give us a kiss!” The omega had little on but an exceptionally thin silk dressing gown, the rest of him quite plainly nude as he leaned over the edge of his little kingdom, eagerly beckoning the witcher closer.

Geralt couldn’t help the fondness that bubbled up as he approached the rather impressive nest, allowing the bard to pull him further inside. Soft and affectionate like this is was impossible to resist the lure of Jaskier’s clever mouth, those soft lips supping eagerly at his own. The brunette seemed to be using the opportunity to thoroughly coat Geralt in his scent, a throaty purr rumbling through that slim chest the whole time. He was like an overly affectionate cat, all pleased noises and greedy hands.

He was less than a day off his heat and it was obvious by the hothouse sweetness in the air. “It's close. I think that’s enough wine for now.”

Jaskier pouted but was cooperative enough as the Witcher switched his cup for a pitcher of water, eagerly swallowing it down once it came within reach. Predictable that only now that he’d built his nest did the omega realize how thirsty he was. 

He’d been ravenous on the road, finishing the majority of the deer the Witcher had caught, as his body prepared for the cycle. Now that it was starting it would be hell to get the petulant bard to eat again, and likely he wouldn’t manage another bite until he’d calmed down.

Well hydrated and looking exceptionally pleased, the bard fell back into the nest again, one thigh cast carelessly to the side. A fine dusting of fur on the bard’s heaving chest led down to a ruddy pink cock that had just begun to thicken against his slim thigh as he beckoned the witcher closer. “Come on, Geralt. Don't keep me waiting.”

The bard could be quite the minx, and he was in fine form tonight it seemed, his hands wandering restlessly down like he couldn’t help himself. Sat on the edge of Jaskier’s cozy little hoard, he just watched the show for a while, seeing the bard start to work himself up. He knew how talented those musician’s hands were and admired them as they wrapped around the omega’s pretty dick. It was clear the bard was already impatient, breathing hard and rocking his hips into his hand as he worked himself. 

Those very blue eyes lit pleadingly on him as Jaskier started to pant, perky omega dick leaking as the bard started really fucking his fist, the plump pink head so pretty as it peaked out past his delicate foreskin. The alpha in him rumbled with pleasure at the sight of his omega so debauched before him, it was such a sight he almost regretted when he finally brushed the bard’s eager hands away. A chorus of unhappy, pleading whines followed as Jaskier shivered under his gaze, his stiff prick continuing to leak and throb as he watched. “Not so fast, Jaskier. You know what I’ve said about playing with my things.”

“Geralt… Alpha… please.” Already there were bright tears clinging to the bard’s long lashes, but it was far too early for that yet. His heat hadn’t even properly started, and the witcher knew it would hit hard soon enough. 

“I'll take good care of you, omega, but you have to be good for me, understand?”

A smile crested his lips at the full body shudder that when through his petulant bard at the words. Once again he was awed to experience such fortune, to have such a vulnerable being, so bright and vivid in the world come into his arms eagerly. It seemed too gentle a thing for a witcher, even if he didn’t always play nice.

Maybe he was getting old if his mind could focus on anything else but the ripe omega writhing under his gaze. Jaskier’s hands had started to wander again, which served him right for his inattention. Sighing in fond exasperation the Witcher gathered both those elegant wrists up in one of his own. He’d need his own hands soon, but fortunately he’d brought just the thing.

The cuffs that he’d commissioned were a work of art. Rabbit fur and leather with a fine chain in between; they wouldn’t hold a witcher or a beast, but they were more than equal to the task of taming a willful human omega. He could tell the moment the bard spotted the restraints because his breath went short and shivering, “Geralt…” he whined, even as the suggestive scent of slick permeated the room.

“Julian.” Those blue eyes were blown wide, but he could tell he had the bard’s attention. “Can you take it?” The heat was close, and there was a fair chance playing with his omega like this would tip the scales.

The brunette swallowed, and Geralt's gaze was impossibly drawn to the redness of the troubadour’s swollen scent glands. He smelled ripe and fertile. Already the witcher’s eyeteeth ached with the desire to bite, to mark the bard in some way that no man could wash away. Still though, he waited, feeling Jaskier take a few trembling breaths before he nodded, thighs falling farther open even as he still squirmed from neglect.

“Good,” Geralt knew the roll of pleasure in his throat was audible in his voice and delighted at the omega purr that answered. “Maybe with your hands otherwise occupied you'll get into less trouble.” Though he doubted it.

The cuffs fit snug, but they were designed to be comfortable on sensitive skin. The dark fur looked good against the bard’s pale wrists. With the chain strung through the headboard, the omega was strung out like a delicacy, prone and smelling sweetly of sex.

Well, with such a feast before him, he saw no reason to deny himself. The Witcher eased above the omega and took a moment to kiss his lips, working his way down with nips and licks until he came to settle between the omega's thighs, his gold gaze taking in the hard pink cock bobbing mere inches from his face. Every part of him was so wet down here, eager for him. Geralt savored briefly the bright flavor of slick and precum, following it nearer to the source until his lips wrapped around the swollen tip that omega cock.

“Oh, fuck… oh yes, please more of that!”

Well, if this lovely creature wanted more, who was Geralt to deny him? He gave no further warning before swallowing the brat's cock to the root. Most omega’s were modest in size, and though Jaskier was definitely blessed, it had nothing on the average size of an alpha, making it a comfortable enough fit to fuck his throat on.

He knew some alphas found it demeaning, but the witcher didn’t know how it could be with the way Jaskier fell apart beneath him. The bard was so pliable like this, a desperate mess willing to do anything to keep his mouth on him. Slim thighs trembled where the monster hunter held them open to keep him still as Geralt sucked, lavishing every inch until he felt the omega get close to that peak.

He withdrew just before his troubadour was going to come, smiling against a damp thigh as Jaskier’s voice rose in a terrible whine. “Don’t stop, Alpha, please... I need it.”

“Not yet, but you’re getting there.”

He gave it a rest for a moment, letting the omega wind down while he lavished the occasional kiss to the spread thighs before him. It was only when the brat’s pretty prick finally stopped twitching that he moved down to follow the warm slick to its source, lifting him up enough to run his tongue over the soft entrance. The heat really had to be near, as rarely was the bard’s little hole so pliant for him already. He toyed with it for a while, teasing the fragile flower while Jaskier’s voice rose in eagerness.

A few fingers confirmed his suspicions on how far along his omega was. He took three easily, though that hole clung to him with greed despite how yielding it had become. It looked like a glorious fuck, and the witcher groaned low in his throat as he set him down. Something primal in him ached to coat his cock in the slick that drenched his hand.

He opened his pants enough to get himself free, and for once he indulged himself; closing his eyes against the decadent pleasure of how smoothly his wet hand glided on his aching erection. Omega slick was excellent lubricant. An alchemist could make a fortune if they could successfully mimic the feel of it, the scent of a beautiful brat eager beneath him.

“You have to… Geralt… come on, please. What kind of beast would tease an omega in heat?”

“Oh, did you want something, Jaskier?” The witcher breathed idly, savoring the attentions of his hand. He could feel the beginnings of his knot starting to swell at the base. His inner alpha at least was equally eager to be buried knot deep inside him. But he had practice denying these urges, and of the two of them he knew Jaskier was the one more desperate for it. The length of him glistened ominously as he brushed it against the small opening fluttering before him.

“Damn it, Geralt… fuck me!” Jaskier snapped, and the witcher found a smile coming to his lips again. The bard made quite a sight like this, and Geralt found he enjoyed teasing him thusly, watching that fragile facade of civility fall away with every wet pass of the alpha’s thick cock rubbing against the soft opening. He’d gotten a taste of it earlier, when Jaskier was building his lovely nest, purring and chirping as he curled into the mound of fine fabrics and pretty trinkets, but he found it only made him hunger for more. He like hearing the testiness build in his voice, the soft omega growls that burgeoned as Jaskier tried to twist his hips against his hold, ready and eager to be mounted.

He held him tight, a warm satisfaction in his belly as he turned the omega about onto his face, tugging his hips up while he kept his thighs pressed tight together. It was the perfect position in which to press himself between the omega’s supple thighs, groaning as slick fairly poured over his cock while he worked it between them. “That’s no way for an omega that wants his alpha to speak. You have to be good for me, Jaskier. I’ll give you everything you want, but not until I’m ready.”

His words were met with a petulant whine, and he groaned to feel the bard squirm beneath him. But gradually as Jaskier seemed to realize he wouldn’t get his way those twisting, tensing thighs relaxed. All the omega could do was pant at the rub of the firm cock brushing against his hole and nudging his tender sac.

“I'm sorry, I'll be good,” came the tremulous voice of the omega, fooling no one.

A laugh rumbled in the witcher’s broad chest. “If I had an oren for every time I heard that…” Geralt chuckled, but the nipping kiss pressed at the nape of the bard’s dewy neck spoke of acceptance. “Relax brat, we’ll get you close one more time, then you’ll get all that you asked for and more.”

Despite the whining Jaskier was yielding in the witcher’s hands, letting the mutant fuck against him while his own pretty prick leaked in the meantime. It didn’t take long rutting against that wet, desperate heat for the bard to fall to wordless babbling. Even without being inside the bard he could use him like a sheath for his cock, watch as he fell to a beautiful ruin.

It wasn’t until the omega was shaking, a filthy, biddable mess beneath him that at last he parted those pretty cheeks to press himself inside. Jaskier was flushed with heat but Geralt found himself regretting not being able to heat the troubadour’s lovely behind before he had him. An omega in heat was too easily upset by an alpha’s censure for a proper spanking, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t dream. He would have been a very sorry little brat by the end of it, and considering his recent schemes his boy more than deserved it. Jaskier would look perfect with a red bottom, his eyelashes wet with tears of more than denial, but for now this would have to do.

And there was something amazing about feeling a trembling that was only a result of his length bullying his way into the bard’s pretty ass. Gods, he was tight, tight and hot sucking around him as he slowly fucked into it. He was going to breed the brat, fuck him good and come deep inside his tender hole until he sobbed and came all over these luxurious sheets. This perfect nest would be a mess by the time he’d had his fill of the lovely creature inside it.

“Now I want you to come for me, over and over, until you’re exhausted. Then again, until every bit of you is wet with sex.”

The noise that Jaskier made sounded punched out of him, breathless as the scent of arousal got thicker. Geralt knew he had finally tipped over, that at last the first wave of true heat had arrived.

With Jaskier in proper heat there was no more time for teasing. The first wave left most omegas almost feral, desperate and aggressive if too long denied. He felt it in the restlessness of Jaskier, how he’d started to squirm again, and tighten rhythmically around the witcher’s cock. “Come on, Alpha. Knot me, you know you want to.”

Despite impatient omega demands, Geralt intentionally kept his thrusts shallower than usual, wary of too much stimulation to the growing swell of his knot too early. He knew that once that tight ring was sliding over it he would have to come, and he wanted to make this first fuck last.

Jaskier was less pleased with this turn of events, a stroppy little growl thrumming in the omega’s throat as he tried to fuck back onto him with what little leverage he had. Just the one deep plunge that had the omega briefly clenching around his tender knot had Geralt hissing through his teeth, and with a much lower growl of his own he bit into the brat’s nape. It wasn’t deep enough for a bond, just a scruff that left the omega’s legs open, his hole relaxed and leaking slick as Geralt pulled himself back out heedless of the pleading whines.

“Behave, Jaskier. We will tie when I'm ready to knot you, for now you’re going to be good and come a few times first.”

Predictably the wordless complaints cut off when Jaskier realized he wasn't getting his way. The Witcher had to stifle his own amusements at the bard’s typical manipulations. Even feral and desperate with heat the troubadour was remarkably adept at playing games.

Geralt took advantage of this moment of compliance to mount the bard again, riding him to a quick and dirty climax. Despite his whining after a couple orgasms the bard was markedly calmer, slow and lazily rubbing back against him with the instinct to coat himself in an alpha’s scent. By the time Geralt’s knot finally popped and they were tied together the bard was singing softly to himself, a soft puddle of contented pleasure.

“Good alpha,” Jaskier trilled, lounging back upon the witcher's scarred chest. The words brought a very primal swell of pleasure to the alpha’s breast.

“And here I thought I was an awful bastard and a pervert.”

“You are, but I believe you've redeemed yourself with that last round. I went to no small effort to make this perfect you know, you’re at least obligated to hold up your end of the deal.”

Though he tried not to look amused because he knew it would just encourage the brat’s nonsense, it was hard not to find some enjoyment in how clearly pleased the omega was. Jaskier was an incorrigible creature, but Geralt found the bard’s spirited nature very much to his liking, even if it seemed to get them into trouble more often than not.

He kept up an idle stroking while they lay there tied together for a time, trying to keep the omega focused on his presence there, keeping him well assured that he wouldn’t leave. But all too soon the next wave began to burgeon just as Geralt’s knot went down. Slick and cum dripped from the omega’s hole, but his body was clearly not contented yet.

Geralt didn’t waste any time turning the omega over as he began to whine, sliding back inside that wet, reddened entrance before his bard had a chance to properly miss him. It was amazing how tight he managed to be still even after he’d been fucked.

By the their third round the omega’s scent glands were dark and swollen red at his throat, a sure enough sign of his eagerness to bond. It felt incredibly lewd because such a willingness spoke of more than just sex. This was a desire to _mate_ with him, to bond the two irrevocably. The witcher ran sharp eyeteeth over the flushed skin and felt the shiver travel all the way down the bard’s spine, culminating in an amazing shudder around his cock.

“Bite, come on Geralt, I'm ready…” His throat was thoroughly on display, and the witcher knew his bard meant to tempt him. 

Once they did this things would change. He still wasn’t sure if anything would come of a mutant bonding to a human. There were any number of unknown variables, but it was hard to focus on that with Jaskier in his arms.

He laid more kisses on that flushed neck, feeling the scent glands that throbbed beneath his lips. Lapping at them set the brat to squirming, though even Geralt was surprised to feel the delicious clench of an orgasm around his cock as the bard came again. He knew that such glands were sensitive, but it was a wonder to observe such a sight in person. 

He had never seen an omega so ready before. Jaskier’s lovely voice was wrecked on pleading whines as be made not so subtle rolls back onto the alpha cock inside him. He had never looked more terribly debauched or beautiful, and in that moment the witcher finally did what they’d both been aching for; he sank is teeth in deep, feeling his teeth pierce the gland as his venom filled the human omega. The bond snapped suddenly into place, like the intangible melody of a song half remembered, teasing and familiar. It was very Jaskier, and Geralt found his chest aching in fondness as he pulled back, eyes rapt to the omega now collapsed against the sheets, quietly purring even as a thin line of blood ran from the bite to stain the fine sheets.

The Witcher listened closely, glad at least to hear the omega’s heartbeat as strong as ever. He didn’t dare withdraw from the warm body beneath him, now while Jaskier was still lax and adjusting. But even buried to the hilt he could at least reach over to release the cuffs and get the little pot of salve they’d brought along. He was exceptionally careful as he smeared the greasy substance onto the bite, glad to see it had not torn at all.

Witchers were immune to most disease, and resistant to the majority of infections but he didn’t want to chance it. The bard, though limp and contented below him did whine slightly at his prodding, but Geralt was just happy to see him react. It meant the bond was settling well.

“Geralt… we did it. It’s such an odd feeling, but somehow it feels like you? Protective, possessive… oh yes, definitely you, you jealous beast,” he laughed. The bard seemed tired, but Geralt was pleased to hear him still sounding like himself. 

The bard nipped his arm before he crawled forward, not willing to put enough space between him that the alpha would slip out. He squirmed and pushed until the two of them were settled further back in the nest. 

All the while Geralt let himself bask in the contentment radiating from the omega, his large scarred hands exploring the bard in his replete. He knew this peace wouldn’t last long, it never did in heat.

The third wave of heat hit and in short order Jaskier was crawling back into his lap, flushed and demanding. He soon had Geralt inside him again, the omega whining and moaning as his alpha turned him about to take him from behind. It took a few good orgasms and another knot before the bard was relaxed again.

Considering how spirited their last round had been it seemed about time to get the bard to drink and maybe eat a little. He knew well enough that if he left him empty the troubadour would start to complain, so this time when he pulled out he retrieved one of their ‘novelties.’ The bard may have turned his nose up at them, but Geralt knew well enough that the little minx had a few for his own pleasure.

He made quite the picture squirming on his knees, bottom high in the air as the witcher rubbed over his opening, already smeared with cum and swollen from the vigorous bouts of sex. Though more enjoyable still was watching that pretty hole take the finely carved shaft in his hands, getting to savor the sight of his omega being fucked without the distraction of his own urgency.

Despite his complaints Jaskier took it beautifully, a lovely ruin as he shivered and moaned into his nest as the knotted swell of the toy opened him up and settled in that lovely bottom. The flared base was carved with the symbol of the School of the Wolf, and it was enough to make the witcher stifle a laugh. The backhanded gift was very Yennefer, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t thankful for the enchanted gift, as his pretty bard settled right down, lounging into his nest once he was well tied again.

“You know, that’s not so bad.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“If that whole wrangling the forces of chaos for ultimate power thing doesn’t work out she could make a fortune selling novelties.”

“I'll be sure to pass that on.”

Jaskier rolled over to give him a look to show he was less than amused at the witcher’s sarcasm, though that didn’t last long, as soon enough he was once more cozying up to the monster hunter a purr rumbling in his chest. “Don’t get too comfortable over there White Wolf. This thing may buy you some time, but I'm expecting a proper knot after we’ve eaten and had a wash.”

Geralt didn’t bother to resist the smile tugging at his lips. Jaskier might be quite the handful, but he was a clever and talented omega who was more than aware of his own worth. It was too rare a sight, and he would challenge any man not to fall prey to the image of the handsome bard all puffed up and preening amidst his nest, the picture of a contented omega. This troublesome bard that was still somehow his perfect mate.

“As you wish.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how this mating fic ended up longer and less smutty than my random one shots before it, but whatever. The next tale I have lined up is a rut fic, because watching through the series again has reminded me that Geralt needs a bit of tormenting himself. So look forward to that.


End file.
